


Dear Maker, Let Him Stay

by CarnationGem (Akumeoi)



Series: You Own The Stars Tonight [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue-Purple Hawke, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Past Abuse, Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/CarnationGem
Summary: After Leandra's death, Fenris moves into Hawke's mansion to keep her from falling further into depression. As she begins to feel better, new possibilities open up in their relationship. Fenris isn't ready to handle it, but this time Lyra isn't willing to just let him go.





	Dear Maker, Let Him Stay

After Fenris offered to stay with Lyra through her grief over Leandra's death, he became a permanent fixture at the Amell estate. One day shortly after, Lyra woke up and felt she could get out of bed on her own again. When Fenris sleepily asked her if she wanted him to call for Orana, she didn’t reply, but sat up and, without hesitation, stepped out of bed. 

Snapping to full attention, Fenris sat up and looked at her with concern. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. Lyra shook her head. 

“No, but I think that setting some criminals on fire would help me feel better, don’t you?” she said brightly. 

They didn’t end up encountering any criminals on the way down to the Hightown Market, but they did encounter a few of Aveline’s guards who recognised Lyra from her frequent visits to their Guard Captain. They called cheerful greetings to Lyra, and she nodded at them in reply, unable to muster a smile but unwilling to be rude. She bought nothing in the market, but Hubert said the mine was doing well for once. That small miracle did nothing to lift Lyra’s spirits, but by the time she got home she was feeling better than she had been in what felt like weeks. 

Over the next few days Lyra steadily improved. Some nights she held Fenris tighter to her than others, and some nights he felt her shaking in her sleep, but she never again sank to the depths he had found her in when he had first arrived at the Amell estate. In a month she had fully resumed her normal activities - roaming around the streets of Kirkwall, telling off petty thieves, gleefully murdering dangerous criminals and blood mages, and tipping her hat cheekily at passing Templars. All her friends watched her carefully for any signs that she might slide back into depression, but fortunately none appeared. 

As for Fenris, he was still sleeping in her bed. Lyra knew she should formally announce to him that she was feeling better so that he could go, but... she told herself she didn’t know if she was strong enough for that yet. And she didn’t want him to leave. It was clear to her now that he still cared about her. But how could she bring that up without chasing him off even faster?

Besides, this was fine. Being held in his arms every night, knowing he was beside her, safe... it was heaven. She ached to touch him freely, but how could she ask for more when she had... this?

—————

One night at around eleven, Lyra and Fenris were lying back-to-back in bed. As Lyra’s condition had improved, Fenris had taken a more and more “hands off” approach to cuddling, which was a pity. But Lyra still liked to listen to him breathing softly as she dropped off to sleep. 

Just as she was crossing over the dark borders of sleep, she felt a touch, feather-light, against her spine. Thinking for a moment that she was already dreaming, she sighed and relaxed. 

And then suddenly snapped awake. 

Fenris was slowly stroking one finger down her spine. 

In an instant, every nerve in her body was humming with electricity. Lyra was paralysed, unsure whether to turn over but unable to resist the feelings that surged through her now.  
Fenris reached her lower back and stopped, pausing for a long minute before touching the tip of his finger to the top of her back and beginning again. In that instant, all of Lyra’s desire for him surged through her body, and her will to resist crumbled. 

“Fenris,” she breathed. The finger on her spine froze, and Lyra flipped over to face him. Seeing his green eyes suddenly so close to her own, less than a handspan away, confused, wary, and beautiful, Lyra felt she would explode. The connection between their eyes was palpable. It said, _I want you._

Without warning, Fenris reached over and put his hand behind Lyra’s head, crushing her lips to his. At the same time, Lyra reached out for his hips and pulled them tightly towards her. As their bodies and lips collided, Lyra let out a heady moan of relief and desire. His lips were as soft as she remembered. His body was hot and lithe beneath her touch, muscles whipcord strong but skin soft and supple. He was everything she’d ever wanted. 

And he was here, clutching her so desperately she thought he’d never let go. 

“Fenris, take me,” she whispered. But at those words, Fenris suddenly stopped kissing her and let go. Shoving her away, he rolled upright and nearly leapt out of the bed, staggering to his feet at a watchful distance from her. 

“I’m sorry, this is wrong,” he said, chest still heaving, wild-eyed. As Lyra sat up and got out of bed at her turn, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, eyes darting to the door. 

“Fenris, wait,” she said urgently. “Calm down. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, but it’s not supposed to - I can’t -” he shook his head wordlessly. Seeing the normally controlled and articulate Fenris fumbling for words sent a shiver of fear down Lyra’s spine. 

_I’m losing him again -!_

“Wait,” Lyra pleaded again. “Don’t go.”

“I-”

“No!” Lyra cut him off harshly. “You started this. You don’t have the right to leave.”

Fenris’s eyes darted to the door, and he looked more panicky than ever. 

“Lyra, _I can’t do this_.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Lyra said, going over to her wardrobe. Flinging the doors wide, she grabbed her trusty leather breastplate, remnants of her first job with Athenril, and threw it on over her nightshirt. As Fenris stood watching, she pulled on an armoured leather skirt, boots, and gloves, then grabbed her staff. 

“Take this,” she said, throwing a fortified mage robe at him. “It’ll go over your clothing. You can fight in it. Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Fenris said, momentarily distracted. 

“You want to get out of here? Fine. I’m going with you. We’re going down to the docks, and we’re going to fight something, and you’re going to calm down. We don’t have to talk about this. You can leave my house in the morning. But I’m not letting you go again like you did before!” That last was nearly snarled out as Lyra rambled in her panic. Fenris flinched and took a step behind him, yet pulled on the robe she’d thrown at his head. Picking up the greatsword he’d left hanging up on the wall beside her staff, he followed Lyra as she stormed out of the room and down the hall. 

As they practically ran through the streets of Hightown, Fenris having to jog to keep up with the determined pace Lyra was setting, a million thoughts whirled through her mind at once, a dizzying blur of fears and hopes and crazy ideas. But Fenris was hanging on behind her, so she hadn’t lost him yet. 

_Oh dear Maker, sweet Andraste, don’t let me lose him again._

As soon as they reached the docks, Lyra spotted an agent of the Carta hanging around in a side alley. She had never been so grateful to see an enemy in all her life. 

“Fenris, in here!” she hissed. 

The next three hours were a whirl of clanging blades and blood splatters, Lyra’s spells lighting up the night like fireworks of red, purple, and gold, while Fenris’s entire body glowed blue. Enemy after enemy, Carta agents, Coterie, street thugs, all, fell to her staff and Fenris’s sword. Hot blood sang through Lyra’s veins while the blood of others pooled at her feet. Fenris did not leave. Some time she was fighting back-to-back with him, sometimes circling around the fight to destroy enemies trying to jump him from behind, sometimes side-by-side with him, facing an advancing wall. There his hand plunged through a man’s chest, here he leapt over a woman’s head and vanished from her line of sight, here he swung his sword in a massive whirl and let Lyra catch a glimpse of his gleaming eyes as he turned away from her.

At the end of it all, they stood back-to-back, chests heaving, surrounded by a pile of corpses. Without a word, Lyra began going through their change purses and pockets, while Fenris stepped back and watched. 

It felt like another small eternity that she spent hunched over corpses not yet cold, stripping them of all valuables as was her custom after a fight. Directions to the base of some Followers of She... a fine new dagger she could give to Isabela... countless coins and useless rings, pieces of trash and people’s innards. When there was nothing more to go through and no way to stall further, Lyra stood. 

To Fenris she said, “Come,” and led him down to the water’s edge. 

There she sat down on a large wooden crate and waited, staring out over the moonlit water. Fenris hovered uncertainly behind her. 

“Lyra?” he asked, sounding far calmer than he had before, but still unsure. 

“Fenris,” Lyra echoed, her voice neutral. She felt, rather than heard - because Fenris always moved quietly - him coming to stand at her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what to say to you,” he said in a low voice. “But I am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lyra said bitterly. “I don’t care if you’re ready to talk about it or not. You don’t have to explain anything to me. Just stop leaving!”

Fenris paused, then took a deep breath. “But I do want to talk about it,” he said. In her peripheral vision, Lyra saw Fenris get down on one knee so his eyes would be on equal level with hers, and she reluctantly turned towards him.

“After what happened between us before, I thought it would be better if you hated me,” he said. “Even now, I can hardly comprehend that you do not. But know that I, too, regret my having walked out your door more than I have ever regretted anything in my entire life.”

The look in Fenris’s eyes was so desperately miserable that it was all Lyra could do to keep from reaching out to him again. But instead she sat frozen, staring into those beautiful, sad green eyes.

“I forgive you,” she murmured. Fenris dropped his gaze. 

“I... want to be with you. But I don’t know if I am strong enough. This is - hard. I’m making so many mistakes.”

“Yes, and so am I,” Lyra said. Fenris’s gaze jerked up to her face in surprise. 

“Perhaps this, now, is a mistake. But I know that no matter what you do, this is going to hurt. Maker help me, if you leave, I will be waiting for you, so you can’t absolve yourself of my feelings just by walking away.”

Fenris flinched.

“You deserve someone who can love you like a normal man,” he said quietly.

Putting one hand on either of Fenris’s shoulders, Lyra looked him dead in the eyes, and said, “I want _you_.”

Fenris swallowed, but did not move. 

“I cannot pretend I do not want to be with you. As you say, this path will not be a smooth one. But if that is what you truly want...”

Lyra’s shoulders sagged with relief. 

“It shall be,” Fenris continued, “as you wish.”

_Thank the Maker._

“Thank goodness,” Lyra said. “Let’s go home and drink cheap wine together. On the balcony. It’s nice there.”

“I could use a drink,” Fenris admitted wryly. 

“Ooh, I don’t know how Orana’s been organising the wine,” Lyra said. “Maybe we had better stop off at the Hanged Man.”

“That’s too much effort,” Fenris complained. Lyra laughed, a real laugh this time. 

“Alright, I’ll just have to try not to wake her. Would you like to use the guest room tonight?”

“You think you can keep me from returning to my mansion?” Fenris said, sounding suspicious. Lyra looked at him, startled. 

“Of course you can go back if you want to,” she said, biting her lip. “But I just thought...”

Fenris's hackles went down, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to. And as for the guest room, well...” As he paused uncertainly, Fenris’s eyes flicked to Lyra’s lips and back again. She felt herself flush pink in response.

“I would like very much to finish what we started earlier.”

Lyra’s face, and other parts of her, began to heat up even more at those words. “Are you sure?”

“No matter how hard I try, I can’t forget the feeling of your touch. It seems to be burned into my very soul.” As he spoke, Fenris’s voice became lower, his eyes remaining fixed on Lyra’s lips. But this time, neither of them moved. 

Then Lyra cautiously brought her hand up to Fenris’s face. As she stroked down his cheekbone he closed his eyes, and she swept her fingers through his soft white hair to rest at the back of his head. Then she slowly drew him towards her. 

This kiss was so much softer and less needy than the previous one. Lyra could feel Fenris pressing eagerly against her, but it was a passionate, not a desperate need. They kissed and kissed until Lyra felt she could barely breathe, then stood, head spinning and slightly tipsy on nothing at all. 

As Fenris rose to meet her, she took his hand.


End file.
